


It's a Wonderful Life

by general_mustachio



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Reality, F/F, Future Fic, a darker blake, adam taurus won, no beta (yet) we die like men, nothing serious just an exercise, prompts, will continue when i need to have another writing exercise, writing exercises i posted on tumblr
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:27:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24041323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/general_mustachio/pseuds/general_mustachio
Summary: After twelve long years, Adam was finally dead.---The God of Light shows Blake how different her life could have been, if only...
Relationships: Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long
Comments: 5
Kudos: 39





	It's a Wonderful Life

**I. Cleanse.**

Adam was dead.

Blake stared at her hands, knuckles pale around the leather grip of her broken blade, shaking as she watched water and freshly drawn blood drip from the steel edge.

Gambol Shroud fell by her feet. All at once, the world turned and flickered dim around the edges of her vision.

Blake stumbled forward, dropping to her knees, body heavy and unwilling. A part of her wanted to give in. Burn and become one with the soil.

Before her, Adam’s body laid twisted a few feet away, his broken mask buried under a torrent of rain and mud, and Blush forever lost at the bottom of the cliffside below. His blood crawled towards her like venom in a bloodstream, shining black under the moonlight. And all her feelings of pain and regret, grown festering inside the cracks of the walls she built around herself, kept Blake frozen long enough to greet it.

After twelve long years, Adam was finally dead.

_Breathe, Belladonna._

She didn’t know how long she sat there in the rain, but at some point, time began to crawl back to its normal momentum, and reality’s unwelcoming presence made itself known. Blake recognized rain falling on her skin like ice, fat droplets heavy and bruising. The air smelled like ozone and pine.

She could hear a waterfall nearby, feeding the overflowing river below, but Blake heard no birdsong. No life. Rain water seemed to wash away the stench of death, but she could smell it under her nose and taste it in the back of her tongue.

Everything registered and came back to her like pale colors of a spectrum, shimmering underwater, revealing so much ugliness down below and how far Blake must swim up to the surface before drowning in it.

But…

“It’s over.” She said, her voice thick with emotion.

Killing him felt like cutting off a rotting limb, and now Blake was free.

Adam was dead and Blake was free, and here she was, alone, alone, alone.

She didn’t fight back when someone hit the side of her head, forcing her to slam into the ground; her face levelling in the dirt. Blake’s ears rang, water going up her nose after she struggled to gasp for breath. She swallowed grit and tasted wet sand between her teeth. With a groan, Blake pushed herself up, arms shaking to keep herself aloft, but she had no will left to retaliate. Her mind too tired, and her body too injured to fight back.

When she looked up, the last thing Blake saw was a vision of someone’s fist rearing back with brutal intent.

And then, pain.

Fade to black.

* * *

**II. Hope**

_“– High Leader was killed by a member of the White Fang–”_

Illia frowned as looked up from her scroll, her attention swayed by the dissonant sound of chairs and tables being pushed aside. A handful of faunus hurried to the bar where a crowd was beginning to form, pushing their way up to the front. And when Illia leaned forward to see what all the fuss was about, she realized they were staring at the flickering holo-image of Adam Taurus.

Someone thankfully raised the volume up, and Illia managed to catch a sentence or two from the broadcast:

_“– lladonna, our High Leader’s right hand, has also disappeared and is currently missing…”_

The frantic murmuring of the crowd drowned out the rest.

“What the fuck?” Tukson pulled himself back into their shadowed corner, shock written all over his gaunt face. He shook himself out of his stupor, and tugged his hoodie down until it obscured his eyes. He turned to her, and whispered. “Illia?”

Illia didn’t respond, staring glassy-eyed while holding on to the edge of their table with a death’s grip.

“We didn’t do this. Did we?” Tukson looked around cautiously, pushing his chair closer towards hers. “Illia, what did _she_ do?”

“I’m not sure,” she exhaled, meeting his gaze. “I don’t know.”

“You’re the one who got her message.” Tukson said, lowering his head as he whispered: “Did she do this?”

“I don’t know,” Illia said. “But she’s missing.”

“No. Don’t say it. Don’t even give me that look.”

“She’s all alone. They might have already caught her.”

“This is not the place or time, Illia.”

“We can’t just leave her here.”

Tukson sighed, running a hand over his face. “Look, I don’t know what she told you, but we can’t trust her. It may be a trap, you know how Taurus’ mind works. He’s insane. Besides, if I don’t get you back home in one piece, your wife’s gonna kill me.”

Illia grinned, watching Tukson glare at her and paw the side of his face. Probably feeling phantom pains from the recently healed bruise he got a month ago.

“What makes you think _she_ would wanna come with us?”

“I’m not sure, but this is our only chance to get her back. We have to try.”

“Well, don’t expect a welcoming committee.” He said. “There’s too much bad blood between us, kid. I say we let her go.”

Illia gritted her teeth. She wanted to say Tukson was wrong. She wanted to believe that Blake, the old Blake, was still in there somewhere.

She wanted to believe hard enough to say it out loud, but she knew Tukson’s fears weren’t unfounded.

For more than a decade, they watched Blake herself keep in the dark. Always behind him, always watching. Her solemn presence kept him safe. And once Adam took his battles to political floors instead of warzones, he placed Blake to the forefront of danger by having her fight his battles for him. Every time Blake appeared in videos of Red Fang propaganda across New Vale, ever since that fateful day, the girl she once loved disappeared until there was nothing familiar left behind.

The man surrounded Blake with death. Forging her in fire and blood until she broke and cracked under pressure. That, Illia supposed, was his first mistake. People didn’t know Blake Belladonna was a double-edged sword.

That bastard probably didn’t see her coming.

Illia stood up from her seat and threw a handful of lien on the table. She caught Tukson’s eyes, gesturing him to follow her with a subtle jerk of her chin. “Come on. We gotta get back to the docks.” She said, pulling her cowl securely over her face. “There’s no point continuing our mission now.” She didn’t wait for his reply, and began to shoulder her way out of the swelling crowds, bodies trapping heat, the smell of sweat, tobacco, and alcohol.

Illia reached the pub’s exit longer than she would have liked, and upon opening the door, lhe world beyond them bowed in greeting like the wake of a new evening. The air felt heavy and electric. The hour before a storm. A world turned upside fucking down.

The Red Fang’s High Leader is _dead_.

Illia took a moment to compose herself despite her stomach turning, and squeezed through a gaggle of younger faunus who were all hurrying to the pub themselves. Soon, Tukson matched her swift gait, his voice shaking as he spoke.

“I doubt they’ll accept us coming back empty-handed.” He leaned over her shoulder, wearily looking around for signs of twitching ears, but they were in luck. People stood frozen in their tracks, crowding sidewalks with scroll lights illuminating their shocked faces. “The Chief – ”

“Not now.” Illia bit back. She stuck to her casual gait, trying to look less agitated than she felt. Illia peered around the corners of her eyes and tugged her hood further down again, more for her comfort than anything.

They passed a pair of faunus sitting in front of a steaming ramen booth, hands over their mouths in disbelief; chopsticks held mid-air as they listened to the vendor’s radio.

“ _– council is now wondering who is next in line from Adam Taurus’ succession–_ ”

Illia ducked away from view, slipping into an alleyway. She walked faster. “Right now, we need to get the message across. Call Reigen back from his post. Tomorrow night, we’re leaving.”

“Illia, the Chief won’t be happy about any of this.”

“Of course she will be. The Faunus war is over. Her daughter chose redemption. There’s nothing else in our way.”

“You’re naive if you think that’s true.”

They both shared a look, their faces grim.

All at once, their hopes to pursue peace soon revealed a bleak future unfolding before their eyes like hairline cracks on a pavement.

But there were so many possibilities now. Possibilities that were out of their reach only an hour ago.

“Tukson, you go on ahead.”

Tukson opened his mouth as if to argue, but the look she sent him was stern and clear.

He closed his mouth, teeth clicking shut.

“ _Tukson_.”

“Fine. We’ll talk more about this later.”

“I’ll catch up with you guys.” She said. “I promise.”

“And where are you going?” He asked, despite knowing the answer himself.

Illia caught his eyes, but didn’t bother to say anything else. Her skin shifted, and soon she was gone.

* * *

**III. Shadows**

These stone walls seemed familiar.

Even with her faunus senses diminished, Blake still managed to see shapes of jagged stonework crisscrossing before her as she attempted to meditate away her thoughts. Even without much clarity to her vision, however, there was something familiar pawing at Blake from the back of her mind.

These stone walls _felt_ familiar. People died in here. Every single prison cell in The Horn felt familiar because people died here _because_ of her. And this cell in particular – located in the deepest, darkest hole even rats found no reason to linger in – was familiar enough for Blake’s mind to summon memories of spilt blood.

In here, it was too quiet, and her thoughts too loud. Sleep begged to reach Blake while her heart denied it, but it was the ghosts of her past that kept her from truly resting. In this place, it seemed she had no one else to hate but herself.

The sound of Blake’s cell screeching open broke her line of thinking. But before Blake could feel thankful for the distraction, she recognized who the newcomers were from their stench.

She set her faunus ears back against her head, feeling a lance of pain in her head from the overload of noise.

A lantern’s creak, and dim fire light soon spilled in her prison. Blake winced from its intensity, the backs of her eyelids burning. Light stretched out across the room, revealing damp walls and dark stains, while two familiar figures quietly entered her cell.

Soon, the stationed guard slammed the iron doors shut, leaving Blake alone with the two of them.

“At this point,” Fennec’s voice dragged across the stone. “It would be a mercy if the council demanded for your execution instead.”

“For now at least,” Corsac’s voice joined the hollow echo of his brother’s. “The majority of the council wishes to make an example out of you–”

“– the murderer of our High Leader.”

Corsac clicked his tongue. “A most treasonous display.”

Blake’s eyes narrowed, hands resting on her thighs forming into tight fists.

“We are the only ones who are on your side, sister Blake. I think it would behoove you to make more friends than enemies.” She heard, more than saw, the infuriating smile in Corsac’s voice. One of the brothers walked closer, his sandalled feet shuffling, slow and cautious to approach. “Instead of working against each other, why not work together? Perhaps if you agree to do something for us, we’ll consider giving you amnesty.”

“You owe us, sister Blake.”

“All of New Vale probably thinks you’re dead.”

“A hero, suffering from the death of her ward.”

“But we know–”

“We know.”

“Think about it.” Corsac’s voice drifted from her other side. “ You have so much potential to be the next High Leader.” Blake kept her stare hardened in front of her; feeling her muscles tensing, legs coiled in case they came in a little too close.

“I’ve already made my choice.” Blake said. “I’d rather die.”

“But what beautiful work you did.” Corsac said. “We didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Only someone like you would have been cunning enough, and strong enough to do the impossible.”

“Think about what you can do. What we can do, together.”

“And New Vale will finally be the Faunus utopia Adam promised, but failed to deliver–”

“ _Enough_.” Blake turned her head, glaring at Fennec and Corsac from where she sat. Yellow eyes glowed in the dark, almost brighter than the lantern; piercing and disrobing their words and dark intentions in less than a heartbeat. “If you come any closer, I will kill you.”

“Very well” Fennec hummed, taking a cautious step back. He curled a finger at his brother, his head motioning for them to leave.

Blake closed her eyes. She exhaled, counting each step Fennec and Corsac took, far, far away from her.

“We will give you another night.” Corsac said. “And the morning after tomorrow, when the council calls your name –”

“You will wish you took our…” The brothers paused and turned to look at each other.

“Merciful offer.”

Blake’s prison door slammed shut.

Darkness greeted her like an old friend.

* * *

**IV. Memories**

_She was having that dream again._

_The air felt cold and heavy with mildew. Playful wind played with her long hair, chilling her cheeks. Leaves fell and covered the forest floor with red and yellow. It smelled like autumn._

_Blake looked down and saw her hands were smaller. She was younger and softer in her dreams; less scarred. Strong with so much promise._

_The memory stuck vividly in the back of her mind, ever appearing only in her subconscious like one of her many secrets kept in the dark. Blake didn’t know why this moment in her past felt important, why it felt unfinished, but it always left her holding her breath and waiting for something that would never come._

_She wished she could touch the smooth rock she was sitting on and make her dream real enough. Teleport herself back in time. But there was a pattern to her dreams, one which Blake memorized after years of watching the same thing happen over and over again._

_Blake braced herself, hearing his footsteps marked by crunching leaves and steady breathing._

_“Blake,” He said. “It’s time.”_

It got colder in her prison cell at certain times.

Blake didn’t know if it marked days passing into night, but she didn’t mind the disorienting experience of being trapped in a place where time was just another form of torture.

She opened her eyes and felt her stomach turn, dizzy after forcing her body to go through another five minutes of microsleep. It was a practice she perfected when she started taking longer missions, waiting for people, for targets; studying them, and making sure she was always one step ahead. This time, her body seemed to be rejecting it, wanting to shut down entirely after her fight with Adam.

After killing Adam.

Blake breathed in deep to settle her mind. Stale, musty air of dry rot and death eventually replaced memories of autumn.

She casually swept something crawling by her arm away, hearing other insects skitter about in the dark, upsetting what sounded like tiny bones and shale.

The wound in her side felt tender and sore, but her aura worked hard to heal it. Gradually, her senses noticed other things: the sound of water dripping in her cell, the guard by her iron door switching with someone else in their shift… footsteps shuffling through the narrow walkway.

Blake pushed herself from where she rested, and sat back on her haunches.

She took another deep breath, keeping her hands into tight fists on her thighs.

For a moment, Blake allowed herself to grieve Gambol Shroud’s absence from her side, missing the feeling of its hilt pressed firmly in her hands like a stolen comfort.

“You’re finally awake.”

Blake ear twitched in surprise when she realized she had a new neighbor, not expecting his presence after what felt like hours of being alone. She could hear his coughing and rattling lungs from the other side of the stone. Blake wondered when the guards brought the old man in. Somehow it reminded her that the world still turned while she stewed in this filth.

Inwardly, Blake hoped the man would be the quiet type, praying to himself instead of striking conversation with a fellow prisoner…

“What are you in for, child?”

_No such luck._

“Murder.” Blake voice said, feeling frustration creep in the carefully crafted composure she preferred to maintain.

“Oh.” She heard the old man take a breath and cough, contemplating her harsh answer. “Serious crime.”

“Yes.”

The old man fell silent.

“I am sorry for disturbing your peace.” He said. “But I believe this might be your final hours before they…”

“I’m not afraid.”

“Really?” He asked. “It almost sounds like you want to die.”

“What I want doesn’t matter, old man.” Blake said. “Either way, this is my fate. I deserve to die. I’m sorry, but I don’t think talking about my feelings would change that.”

“Oh.” The old man said. “We shall see, young Blake.”

When he fell silent again, this time he kept to himself.

* * *

**V. Past**

The sound of iron locks and shifting gears from her prison echoed in her cell.

Blake slowly roused herself from meditation, ears tilting towards the muffled noises from the hallway outside. One person. Heavy boots. A Red Fang-grade taser, and blades clanking by their hip. Breathing muted by a mask.

With a resounding _click_ from the other side, the door’s hinges creaked, and a shaft of light blinded her through closed eyelids. Blake didn’t shift from her spot on the floor. The smell of someone familiar came next, revealed under a nullifying scent hiding the person’s presence from faunus senses. It was like opening a floodgate of memories, both good and bad. The only other person who can successfully infiltrate a maximum security prison was…

“Blake?” Illia took a few steps inside the dark prison cell. The sound of keys jingling in her shaking hand. She smelled like sweat. She smelled like fear. “I’m gonna get you out of here,” Illia said. “But I need to know that you’re not gonna fucking kill me _once_ I do.”

Blake almost laughed at the irony of being freed by someone who didn’t even want to come near her.

“What are you doing here?” Blake asked, her voice rough after hours of silence, her throat parched and mouth dry.

She heard Illia stumble over her footing after taking another cautious step. Unsurprising, since this was probably the first time they have spoken to each other without death threats, knives, or fighting with lives hanging by a thread.

“You know what they’re planning to do to you, right?”

Blake barely moved, staying still as if her life didn’t depend on a fraction of a second.

The stretching silence whittled Illia’s patience away. Blake wasn’t even acknowledging her presence, sitting with her legs crossed and her eyes closed.

“Are you gonna sit here and do nothing?” Illia chanced a quick look at the prison door, wary of unwanted company. “Where did all your fight go, Belladonna? I thought you said you were gonna kill me if I showed my sorry face around you again.” Illia kneeled in front of her. Blake could hear anger simmering underneath her next words: “Look, no matter what happened between us, you _know_ I can’t just leave you here. You were my friend.”

“You have a wife, right?” Blake finally opened her eyes and turned to her; the cold, unsettling gaze pinning Illia down with a look. “Got married a year ago. A daughter. She is beautiful, by the way.”

Illia wasn’t sure if she liked this kind of attention better or not. A chill overcame her to near freezing, and she couldn’t avoid her voice from shaking.

“How did you know about that?”

Blake turned away and bowed her head, her ears folding back against her head. “You know this is what I deserve. I deserve to stay here for what I’ve done to the White Fang. Don’t throw your life away because of me.”

“And what about what you did _for_ the White Fang? Adam is dead because of you.”

“Can one life outweigh everything I’ve done to you?”

“Blake…”

“You’re wasting your time.” Blake shook her head. “Take the next boat back to Mistral and forget about me.”

“– Your mother deserves the chance to see you again.”

“ _Don’t._ ”

Illia took a little longer this time to swallow her fear, finding herself paralyzed and unable to muster a reply. Blake Belladonna was ruthless. She knew exactly which buttons to push, and Illia figured Blake wasn’t used to having other people practice her own methods against her.

“What else can I do that won’t result in more people getting killed?” Blake asked. “I leave dead bodies wherever I go, Amitola. That’s who I am . That girl you knew – she’s gone. It’s time you accept it and move on.”

“I never gave up on you. Not once.”

“I can see that, because here you are, wasting your time. You’re a fool.”

"Join us.” Illia pressed on nonetheless, leaning forward, desperately trying to catch Blake’s eyes which remained downturned. “Leave this place and come back home. Fight for us.”

“You think this can change?” Blake lifted her hands between them. The sudden movement caused Illia to jump back. Looking down, she saw Blake’s fingernails still stained with Adam’s blood, dried and flaking. “Adam won. I can never go back. I can kill you right now, and I won’t feel remorse. I can make you disappear, cut you down so they’ll never find your body. And nothing from this conversation would have made a difference.”

Illia breathed in deep, and forced her mind to conjure the kind, courageous girl from her childhood. Tried to match that awkward kid to this twisted woman, unrecognizeable as a faunus and more akin to a monster.

“I know if you _meant_ that, you would have done it by now.”

She was running out of time. They must be searching for someone who stole someone’s locker items by now, finding a few missing uniforms and dead bodies lacking personal ID cards. No matter how good Illia was at espionage, breaching The Horn was a serious criminal offense in Adam’s city, classified as a suicide mission by the White Fang.

_This was so fucking stupid._

“If they find you, you’ll be killed on sight.” Blake said.

Illia kneeled in front of her, ignoring the feeling of insects skittering around her knee. “I am not giving up on you, because I know you would’ve never given up on me.”

Blake breathed in deep, feeling cold air enter her lungs, and forced her mind to go back…

“Fine.”

Back to sleep.

“I’ll wait.”

_She was having that dream again._

Blake looked around and breathed in the autumn air, tilting her head back and taking in the pink sky and rain of red leaves.

_Peace and quiet._

She hoped the train would never come.

“In hindsight, this is perhaps not the kind of company you’re expecting?”

She sat upright when she heard the voice which seemed to echo from the heart of the forest itself. Her ears and hackles stood on end as she looked around, trying to focus on where it was coming from.

Nothing.

Just her imagination.

"There is no need to be afraid, young Blake.”

Blake leapt from her perch when she felt someone sit next to her. She reached for the blade on her back, pausing when she remembered it was never there. It took a moment for Blake to realize that she was back to the older version of herself: her long black hair pulled back, oily and crusted with dirt; the scratch on her forehead; the tattered Red Fang uniform she wore for hours or days, hanging on her like soiled rags.

She bared her teeth, furious for her ruined illusion. “What did you do?”

“Well, you weren’t listening to me out there.” The person said, stroking his gray beard, an infuriating smile on his face. “I figured I could try another way reach you.”

Blake shook her head, confused. "Who…?”

“I admit, I hoped you’d fall for the more subtle approach. I guess a little bit of deus ex machina won’t hurt?”

Blake narrowed her eyes, stalking a wide berth around him.

He was an old man, an ordinary faunus, with a modest curl of antler horns on his balding head. What was left of his hair was long and wild, his skin dark, and his cheeks plump. His baggy brown robes hid a haggard posture drooping with a slight hunch.

She tensed when he fished something out of his robe, which turned out to be a beaten wooden pipe. Its stem was long and flute-like, worn and used; its chamber gilded with a row of golden leaves.

Blake studied him, yellow eyes calculating, trying to place the old man’s face in her memory.

“You’re in my dream.”

“And I must apologize for intruding.”

“Whatever, or whoever you are – what are you doing in _my_ dream?”

“Well,” The old man nodded. “Why can I not be here?”

“Because this is my dream, and my dreams never had you in it.”

“You said it yourself. This is a dream. Anything can happen in a dream.” The old man smiled. “And dreams are my domain.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What do you want from me?”

“Well,” The old man took a puff of smoke from his pipe. The smell of tobacco permeated the air, and Blake watched his face fall. The wrinkles on his forehead sloped as he appeared to think deeply. “At least, with me here, Adam won’t call for you, yes?”

She didn’t know what to say about that.

“Would you like to sit?” He asked, patting the space next to him on the rock.

Blake sighed, wrapping her arms around herself. She looked about their surroundings, and saw they were indeed alone in the grove. The train hadn’t come. It was like time had stopped thanks to the presence of her interloper, but Blake wouldn’t thank him just yet. She watched as he took his time to enjoy the wind; a casual resident traipsing around in her head.

Blake sat down.

“I must be losing my mind.” She said. “Not even my head would leave me the hell alone.”

“Maybe if you stopped running away, we would.”

Blake swallowed her bitterness. "I’m not the type to run away.”

"And that is why I’m here for you, Blake. You didn’t run away.”

“I didn’t – I don’t know what you mean?” She said. Blake studied him closely. “I didn’t run from where? Are you…?”

The old man tapped the flute pipe on his arm, dusting his gray sleeve with ash. “I’m not death, if that’s what you’re wondering.” He said.

"Quit dancing around and just answer my damn questions. Why are you here? Who are you?”

“And you will have your answers. Patience, Blake. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you who or what I am easily, yes?” The old man’s eyes glinted a molten gold. Blake shifted uneasily on her perch, unable to force herself to look away, a strange draw tugging desperately at her heart. “But I will answer your second question.”

From her peripheral, she saw a weathered old hand reach out for a handshake. One which she took… was compelled to take – no matter how much she wanted to wake up. No matter how much she wanted to believe this wasn’t real. Just a dream. Not a memory.

“I am happy to finally meet you, Blake. I am the God of Light.” The old man said. “And I am here to help you find your way.”

* * *

**VI. Sins**

It was love at first sight.

He fell for her lipstick, the rouge on her cheeks, and the promise of an intimate night, whispered hot and heavy in his ear.

“Let’s get out of here.” He said, pressing himself closer after hours of listening to her lie about her life.

Blake remembered him taking her hand, his pull leading her through thick crowds of writhing bodies under a deep bass music. She could feel every beat vibrate in her ribcage. The club’s dance floor thick with cigarette smoke, covering the air above them like a rolling blanket. She had sweat on her brow, and when he squeezed her hand, Blake looked up to see faces of ecstacy lit up by bright neon lights. His face looked no different from theirs.

“Where are we going?” Blake asked, giggling when he pulled her against his chest, brown eyes dark and beckoning.

“You’ll see.”

Hand on the small of her waist. Lips on her neck. The alley out back.

She pressed a knife on his neck, and things spiralled out of control.

“Stop.”

The world froze. The splash of red stuck mid-air like a strange abstract sculpture.

The Red Fang found out he was a mole, cunning enough to have stayed hidden for six months; smuggling weapons to an undercover White Fang guerilla unit. They had to bring her in. Find the traitor, and silence them with whatever means necessary. Adam always preferred death over imprisonment. Less bodies to deal with, he said.

Blake turned away from the gruesome memory playing out before her, and when she looked up again she was back in the club. Sitting by the bar like nothing happened. People continued to dance behind her, as if the last five minutes never happened. The song was still loud, pulsating around them like a wild, living thing.

“You seem uncomfortable.” The bartender said, taking the empty glass by her elbow, the rim pink and sticky with salt and lipstick. “Do you wish to go somewhere else?”

“Why did you take me here?” Blake asked.

The bartender shrugged, “I didn’t.” He said. “ _You_ are in control, Blake. It shows you all the things you wish to remember –”

“But I don’t want to remember _any_ of this.”

“– and all the things you regret.”

Regret. It was an emotion Blake should be used by now, but after many years of feeling nothing but regret, she doubted it could be practiced at all.

“I am guessing you brought us to his final hours?” The God of Light asked.

“Yes. All that blood wasn’t for show.”

Blake was standing in front of a large window.

Atlas’ beautiful skyline sparkled before her, belying the corruption festering underneath. The moon was full, and the sky was on the edge of twilight. She didn’t know she could conjure such beautiful images.

"This place isn’t much better.” Blake sighed, letting herself fall against the redwood desk behind her. Picture frames had toppled over on the desk; damp papers and books in disarray. “Sorry. I guess I don’t know how to control whatever this is yet.”

“It’s fine. The first time is always a rough one.”

"Do gods usually interfere with other people’s lives?”

“No.” He said. “I didn’t do much of a good job the first time.”

“Great.”

“So I never made a habit of it.” He sat next to her, content as he puffed his pipe.

Blake fixed him a flat expression. “I’m still waiting for you to answer my other question.”

“Hm? What question?”

She grit her teeth, and through some herculean effort, managed to keep her voice level. “ _Why_? Why me?” She asked. “Like I said, out of a billion people in my world and you picked this.” Blake sharply gestured to herself. “Why?”

“And what do you think I picked you for, Blake?”

The metaphorical tables turning seemed to lower her hackles, catching Blake off-guard.

“I don’t know.”

“I am not here to offer you redemption.” The God of Light said. “Even if I know that you are capable of so much more, I am not sure if you even want to be redeemed.”

Blake huffed. “What made you think that.”

“I came to hire you for a very important job.”

Blake tapped her fingers on the wood; eyebrows pinched. There were too many thoughts clamoring loudly in her brain, each of them demanding to be expressed. “You need me, an ordinary mortal’s help?”

“Yes.”

“… to fix a problem you gods can’t fix on your own?”

The God of Light scratched his chin.

“Yes.”

She must be seeing things, talking to ghosts. Losing her mind.

Blake lifted her eyes and caught the rays of her moon, spending the next few minutes with someone who might as well be a figment of her imagination.

“They’ll announce my sentence tomorrow.” Blake wrapped her arms around herself, trying to remember what comfort felt like. “And I deserve it. I deserve everything that’s coming to me. My father is dead because of me. My mother, and more than half my people fear me. Maybe you can find someone who has less baggage. I’m sorry.”

“There is no other way to go, no other path to take, but forward.”

The God of Light rested a hand on her shoulder, and a hundred other visions flashed before her eyes.

A burning building.

A dying couple.

Bodies on the streets of Menagerie.

Clutching her father’s body by the river.

_“This is all your fault.”_

It was her fault.

_“You took away my dreams. My strength.”_

So many people died because of her.

_“You can never pay me back for your mistakes.”_

There was so much blood.

Blake shook as she clutched at the bloody stump, where Adam’s arm used to be. And she could feel it, something worse than fear; cold and pitch black, burying itself deep in her guts like a ravenous claw. It kept her still, frozen and by his side. She didn’t run. She couldn’t run.

“You were going to leave me.” Adam said. “This is all _your_ fault. I can’t fight for us anymore because of _you_.”

_Young Blake…_

Back.

_There is a path which you had crossed._

Back to the train…

_And a choice you had made._

Back to the cliffside, overlooking the rails, and waiting…

_A choice which you must make again._

Back to the beaten path, watching Adam lead her through the autumn trees…

Back.

Back to Forever Fall.

Adam’s mask gleamed, his lips set in a grim line. Confident, and strong. He has always been the strongest one between the two of them.

“Blake,” He said. “it’s time.”

* * *

**VII. Awakening**

“– time to wake up, mommy!”

Blake groaned, burrowing her head further into her pillow. She tried to take a moment to ease the queasiness in her stomach, but the bed’s constant shaking from the bouncing weight next to her made Blake’s attempt impossible.

_Wait._

When did she get a bed?

Blake sat up, alarmed, throwing a mountain of pillows and heavy blankets off her comfy cocoon of warmth. And gods, how the world dipped and turned. She pressed fingers over her eyes, trying to will her nasty headache away. Was this another memory? Someone else’s? A forgotten memory of an infiltration assignment gone bad? For the life of her, Blake couldn’t remember being in a room like this, with a window view like _that_ (Menagerie…?), or any other time in her life when someone rambunctiously woke her up, calling her….

“Mommy?”

She blinked. Blake’s blurry vision sharpened. Soft sunlight greeted her immediately, and she took another moment to allow her eyes to adjust.

Deep maroon walls. A large vanity nearby. She looked to the side and saw the windows were large enough to escape from if she had to get away. There was an open closet with a mess of clothes dominating the other side of the fairly large bedroom, and a soft, yellow armchair with a mountain of stuffed toys and children’s books on the seat.

The room was, more or less, a mess.

Blake jumped when she noticed a wiggling lump under the bedsheets, and froze when a pair of calico cat ears revealed themselves from underneath the blankets.

The ears wiggled.

What followed was, perhaps, the longest staring contest Blake ever had with a pair of cat ears.

“Um…”

The lump giggled, and Blake used all of her willpower not to jump away from the bed entirely. Unfortunately for her, she was greeted with an explosion of pure energy and loud squealing. The thing underneath burst from the blankets, almost hitting Blake with a giant pink stuffed toy –

“MOMMY’S AWAKE!”

Blake stared, pale and shellshocked, as she watched the smaller, spitting image of _herself_ jump off the bed with a grunt, and run out of the bedroom screaming.

“what.”

* * *

**VIII. Pretend**

There was a time when Yang thought raising her own children would be simple.

Maybe not easy, of course, Yang knew being responsible for an entire person would never be easy. But at least she thought it would be something familiar. Like retracing old steps, and remembering certain cues, after practically raising herself and Ruby as children. She was obviously better than Raven in that regard (the number one mother of the year) and looking back, Yang liked to think she did an okay job. Neither she nor Ruby exploded. That counted as a good thing, right?

So when Blake finally told her the most wonderful news of her life, Yang approached the idea of parenthood with little hesitation, possessing none of the fear first time parents felt. Every tense emotion she had turned into excitement and anticipation. Yang felt ready, and like everything she did in her life, she went in headfirst and followed the same old beats that came to her like an instinct.

Change diaper, help mom feed the baby, sing them to sleep, keep them from making a fuss.

At least she managed to babyproof their home, she can handle a hammer just fine - some things were thankfully easier as an adult.

And now, after four glorious years of raising their own children, Yang couldn’t help but think, ah… yes –

 _“Remember that time when I thought raising kids would be_ simple _?”_

There were a few things she never expected that would prove her hideously wrong, even before their girls were born. The young couple never expected to take care of more than one baby at the same time, let alone multiple mini versions of _herself_ and Mrs. Dark and Dangerous. She expected to toe dip into the situation, but fate was already laughing at them even before their first ultrasound, when the doctor told them they were having twins.

While Ruby grew up to be a rambunctions toddler who had a penchant for disappearing during random times of the day, resulting in her panicking sister elbow-deep in wild brambles or squeezed under a giant log, nothing could have prepared Yang for chasing around naked, wet, screaming toddlers across their backyard where their neighbors can see.

“C’mere you little gremlin.” Yang grabbed one squirming, soapy child in her arm like a slippery sack, butt up in the air and legs flapping. Her other arm accommodated her second child, who kept flopping around wildly like an angry fish over her shoulder.

“Unhand me, evil Grimm!”

They definitely learned that from their infamous Aunt Ruby.

“Not ‘til the little huntresses had their baths. Let’s get your butts back in the water.”

Yang enjoyed their whines of defeat and groans of ‘Nooo’ perhaps a little too much.

It was like having several scroll apps running at the same time.

She had one arm dedicated to pulling socks over one toddler’s foot - because yes, something that simple did require an entire arm to utilize. The other arm was busy pulling a tiny jacket over Li’s head. Left foot in boot, stop right leg from kicking her in the eye. One of them clambered up onto her shoulders, before burying herself in their mother’s hair.

It wasn’t long until Yue was cuddled in her arms, already falling asleep as she basked in Yang’s natural warmth. Li sat on her shoulders, kicking her feet and grabbing fistfulls of golden locks.

“Everybody ready?”

A chorus of rambunctious ‘ _yeses_ ’ made Yang bounce her girls in place.

“Gotta say g’bye to mommy.” Yang looked around. “Where’s mommy?”

“Here’s mommy. ”

Yang turned her head towards the staircase, smiling as she watched the love of her life climb down each step shakily. Judging by the robe she was wearing, and her adorable messy bedhead, Blake must have just woken up.

Yang reached for her, and pulled her in for a quick kiss.

“Promise me you’ll go back to bed after this?”

Blake stared at her. Yang almost preened, glad that she still had that effect on her wife.

“I make no promises.” Blake said, pulling herself away. She tugged her black robe tighter around herself, for the life of her looking unsure. “I’ll probably do something. Like… read?”

“Blake - “

Blake flinched.

Yang frowned, taking her hand and squeezing her fingers lightly. “Everything okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m just…”

“Just?”

Blake cleared her throat, strangely looking out of her element as she stood in the middle of the hallway. “I’m just…”

“I get it. You’re worried about work again?”

“…. yes, work.”

“You need this day off, babe.” Yang said. “Your loyal underlings can handle your job for one day.”

“Right.”

Yang pulled her in for another kiss. She smiled over their parted lips in adoration. “Workaholic.”

“That’s me.”

“Read your new books, have a bubble bath, _relax_. You deserve this.” Yang said. “I can handle the little gremlins for a while. We’ll have a great time.”

“Okay.”

“And if you want us to come back in case you feel lonely, you know my number.” Yang winked.

Blake stared.

“Um. Will you be all right?”

“Yes. Sorry, I’m just tired.” Blake ran a hand over her face. “You’re right, I’ve been focusing too much on work and… the kids recently.”

“Mom?”

Yang looked up at eyes very much like hers, glaring at her. “Yes baby?”

“No more kissing!”

Yang laughed, taking a step away from her wife, watching in amusement as Blake’s face flushed red. “We’ll continue this later.” She said, this time missing Blake’s completely dazed expression.

“Okay, time to do a headcount! Li?”

“Let’s go let’s go I wanna see the _lions_!”

“Yue?”

_Snore._

“Bo?”

Yang looked around.

“Bo? Oh.” She tugged open her coat and looked inside, relieved to see the eldest of the triplets already hugging her midsection; face huddled into her side. “There you are.”

An arm reached over and pulled Yang’s coat closed.

“That’s everyone.”

“H-have fun.”

“Say g’bye to mommy.”

“Bye mommy!”

“Not gonna give mommy a kiss?”

“ _No more kissing.”_

 _“_ No more kissing, gotcha.”

And with that, the four of them headed out through the door like a whirlwind, leaving Blake stupefied in the hallway.

“You…” Blake turned to glare at the old man next to her, his eyes twinkling. Daring her to punch God in the face. “Where did _you just take me_?”

* * *

**IX. Pictures**

Blake didn’t know she looked good with shorter hair.

The faunus woman in the pictures lining up the walls stared back at her, and she felt more like a dark mirror looking into at this strange, alternate reality where she would willingly let someone press a cake in her face while she was wearing what appeared to be a wedding gown.

“I would have gotten married.” Her voice sounded distant; hollow in the empty room, and she missed the frown on the God of Light’s face as she continued to follow the line of family photos hanging on the wall. “I would have had a family.”

There were pictures of her and three identical faunus children playing in the snow in Atlas.

Pictures of her and a blonde woman intimately cuddling in a hammock from one of the Menagerie beaches.

Pictures of her looking noble while wearing the Kuo Kuana chieftain’s robe, looking back at the photographer with a proud smile.

There were pictures of people she didn’t know, numerous photos of a dark-haired woman with a mischievous smile and in some cases a large scythe… and it was strange to think that, in another world, she would have enough friends that could fill up a group picture.

This Blake’s eyes were brighter; her smile wider and genuine and framed with laugh lines that somehow made her look younger in comparison.

This Blake wasn’t tense or stiff or guarded in the way she carried herself. Parts of her body which were supposed to be broken, cut and healed thousands of times, were all missing; her body left unmarred. The ugly scars her face were also absent, and there were none of the puckered scars of badly healed wounds mapping out her flesh.

This Blake even had her left ear fully intact. 

“In this world,” The God of Light said, “You left Adam in Forever Fall. You went to Beacon Academy.”

“It all started in Forever Fall...”

“That place has always been a turning point for you, Blake.”

She saw her reflection from the glass of a picture frame, met its eyes, and winced at the woman on the other side who looked so alien to her. She might as study the face of a total stranger. “I actually did it.” She said. “I could have been a Huntress.”

Blake couldn’t bring herself to hate the woman in the pictures, even if she wanted to.

“Why would you bring me here?” Blake asked, her voice trembling with barely contained anger; it was a miracle she managed to keep her voice level.

“I brought you here to show you what you can become.”

“But I’m not the woman in these photos.” She turned to face the old man, who at least had enough sense to look guilty, wrapping her arms around her trembling shoulders. “I didn’t go to Beacon, I would never do any of these things-- And these people?” She gestured at the group of huntresses, with her standing beside the same blonde woman from before. “I don’t know these people.” 

“You’re right, you will never be this woman.” The God of Light admitted. “This life, this reality, is something that you will never see in your world.”

“Then why--?” 

“I didn’t bring you here to punish you, Blake. I brought you here because I wanted to show you -- _you_. Who you can be. What you can do if you just tried.”

The moment she blinked, Blake realized she was alone in the room and the old man was gone.

Stewing in her own fury and agitation. 

_“Three days. That’s all I ask.”_


End file.
